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Cassandra Clare -
City of Ashes (2008)
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Yes," Jace said, "I regret having disobeyed you." No! Clary thought, but her heart sank. Was he giving up, did he think it was the only way to save her and Simon? Valentine's face softened. "Jonathan-" "Especially," Jace said, "since I plan to do it again. Right now.
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The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you, Clary, he can't.
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I guess it's true what they say," observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches." "That's atheists, jackass," said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.
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It is easier to confront a threat as a mass, a group, not individuals who must be evaluated one by one...
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I am a man" he told her, "and men do not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone woman, and bring me something brown.
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At the time I thought what I had with you and your mother was better than nothing. But if you can't tell the truth to the people you care about the most, eventually you stop being able to tell the truth to yourself.
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Romanian? That's impressive," said Jace. "Not many people speak it." "Do you?" Sebastian asked with interest. "Not really," Jace said with a smile so disarming Simon knew he was lying. "My Romanian is pretty much limited to useful phrases like, 'Are these snakes poisonous?' and 'But you look much too young to be a police officer.
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But it was Valentine. I saw him. In fact, he had the Sword with him when he came down to the cells and taunted me through the bars. It was like a bad movie, except he didn't actually twirl his mustache. - Jace Wayland
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Everything we need to know is locked up in your head, under those pretty red curls." Clary reached up to touch her hair protectively. "I dont think-" "So what are you going to do?" Simon asked sharply. "Cut her head open to get at it?
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What are all these?" Clary asked. "Vials of holy water, blessed knives, steel and silver blades," Jace said, piling the weapons on the floor beside him, "electrum wire - not much use at the moment but it's always good to have spares - silver bullets, charms of protetion, crucifixes, stars of David-" "Jesus," said Clary "I doubt he'd fit." "Jace." Clary was appalled.
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What happened to you? Jace looked affronted. What happened to me? Alec shook him, not lightly. You said you were going for a walk! What kind of walk takes six hours? A long one? Jace suggested.
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You could dress it up with a sequined headband, Magnus suggested, offering his boyfriend something blue and sparkly. Just a thought. Resist the urge, Alec. Simon was sitting on the edge of a low wall with Maia beside him, though she appeared to be deep in conversation with Aline. You'll look like Olivia Newton-John in Xanadu. There are worse things, Magnus observed.
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It sucked to be old enough to want to know what was going on, but so young you were always dismissed.
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You want a round table meeting, we can have a round table meeting." "I love round tables," said Magnus brightly. "They suit me so much better than square.
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He looked back at her, and when she saw the look on his face, she saw his eyes at Renwick's, when he had watched the Portal that separated him from his home shatter into a thousand irretrievable pieces. He held her gaze for a split second, then looked away from her, the muscles in his throat working.
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Why, oh why, had Jace picked a fight with a pack of wolves? What had possessed him? Then again, it was Jace. He'd pick a fight with a Mack truck if the urge took him.
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I forgot," Isabelle muttered as the rest of them caught up to her. "Faeries have no sense of humor." "Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Jace. "There's a pixie nightclub downtown called Hot Wings. Not," he added, "that I have ever been there.
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Far below ran the silver ribbon of the East River, braceleted by shining bridges, flecked by boats as small as flyspecks, splitting the shining banks of light that were Manhattan and Brooklyn on either side.
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In the end that was the choice you made, and it doesn't matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did.
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But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. he was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded Clary with mild interest, puffing gently on a fantastically large pipe as he did so. Though he looked nothing at all like a Viking, he was instantly and totally familiar. Magnus Bane
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Lawful good to lawful evil!" said Simon, pleased. "He's quoting Dungeons and Dragons," said Clary. "Ignore him.
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She'd been impressed by his looks at first—those sharply planed cheekbones and those black, fathomless eyes—but his affable, sympathetic personality grated on her now. She didn't like boys who looked as if they never got mad about anything. In Isabelle's world, rage equaled passion equaled a good time.
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Growing up happens when you start having things you look back on and wish you could change -Clary Fray
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I hate to break it to you, but if he's interested in your highly personal areas, he probably isn't interested in your sisters.
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I love you, Clary," he said without looking at her. He was staring out into the church, at the row of lighted candles, their fold reflected in his eyes. "More than I ever—" He broke off. "God. More than I probably should. You know that, don't you?
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Quote of the day
No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women knitting. I will paint living people who breathe and feel and suffer and love.
Edvard Munch
Cassandra Clare
Creative Commons
Born:
July 27, 1973
(age 50)
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